Last night, I was thinking about how pleasant my place is. My roommate was in the kitchen, making something delicious for work, singing along with her I-pod. I was laying/lying (I don't remember the rules to know which I'm supposed to use - help!) on the futon, reading a great L. M. Montgomery book, Pat of Silver Bush, which I may post on later today, and everything just felt nice.
Then I came out this morning, in the dead of summer in southern AZ, to find the front door and living room windows open while the ac is trying desperately to keep things cool. Other roommate wanted to let in some fresh air, which definitely has it's merit.
What more could you ask for? ;)